Blinded by Beauty
by TheWanderings
Summary: A/U: Santana can't seem to get her life back together after her accident. Her world is falling apart around her, and she can't even see it happen. Trigger Warning: May trigger victims of abuse in some chapters.


"How many more miles till the next gas station? I need to take a piss."

"Geez, man I dunno. Keep your eyes out for a sign."

"Well if you slowed the fuck down, maybe I could read them as we passed."

"I am only going 80 miles per. Stop being a blind-ass pussy and keep your eye out for a sign if you're so concerned about you delicate bladder!"

I once challenged myself to see if I could go an entire day without rolling my eyes. I woke up, discovered my mom was watching FOX News and decided that my daily routine could not be complete without my regular dosage of eye-rolling. As an eye-rolling addict, I am truly blessed to constantly be in the company of such idiots.

My best friend Quinn huffs and crosses her arms as she slumps down in the seat adjacent to me. She opens her mouth as if she hopes to interject with her usual preaching, but decides against it as soon as she locks eyes with me. The two of us, after years of being friends, mastered the difficult to grasp "silent communication". A lot can be said between with just a look. Now I am currently giving her a toned down version of the "don't start anything now" look. It was executed perfectly.

I am surely going places.

The man-child in the driver seat, Quinn's boyfriend Puck, grits his teeth as my other "friend", Sam, grumbles to himself as he continues to pout like a little girl. My ears clearly pick up "Not", "Pussy", and "Prick". Sam was too easy. Forget chopping his balls off, all you needed to do if you wanted to castrate him was call him a "Pussy" or "Bitch". This is something that I may never understand. Maybe it's just a guy thing. All I know is that Sam is in dire need of a backbone.

It's been a long day. It's 4 AM and we still have another half hour of driving to do before we make it back home. We were all tired and tightly wound. It's a miracle things didn't break out into chaos the second Quinn and I were picked up from Mercedes' house.

"Hey, would you stop being a little bitch about it?" Puck says, deciding to amp up the tension in the cramped pick-up. Sam takes a note from my book and rolls his eyes, continuing to look ahead at the empty road as opposed to Puck who was staring directly at Sam, eyes off the road. He says, "You want me to apologize, big man?"

Sam growls, "No man I don't want-"

"You sure? You seem awful upset about it Sammy. I'll apologize." Puck clears his throat mockingly. "I, Noah Puckerman, formally apologize to you, Sammy-"

"Just Sam!" Sam hisses.

"-Sam Evans. Your bladder is not delicate, in fact, I find it rather masculine. Slap a bandanna on that bladder and you can call it Hulk Hogan."

"Fuck off, man." Sam groans, refusing to make eye-contact with Puck. "Just keep your eyes on the road."

My friends, ladies and gentlemen. A classy bunch aren't they?

"Puck…" Quinn whispers gently as she pulls herself up out of her chair and leans over his seat. She whispers something I'm unable to hear into Puck's ear. Puck, yet again, clenches his jaw and tightens his grip on the steering wheel.

A few seconds pass before Puck slams on the breaks without warning. Everyone, with the exception of Puck, lurches forward. Quinn and I yelp as our seat belts yank us backwards, Sam's head however suddenly becomes very intimate with the dashboard due to him not wearing a seatbelt. He groans as he rubs his head gently. I spot a small, red bump in the centre of his forehead.

He sorta looked like Harry Potter if Harry's scar was shaped like a ginormous zit.

"Dude, what the fuck?" I find myself shouting at Puck as I rub my sore chest. "Are you insane?"

"Aw man, I've got a date tonight." I look from Puck to Sam who had opened one of the mirrors and was staring worriedly at his reflection.

"Puck, we are in the middle of the road? Why did you stop?" Quinn questions, her voice wavering. She shifts nervously in her seat as she looks out the window, keeping an eye out for oncoming traffic. She won't find any. This highway is always deserted at this time of night.

"Y'know what? You don't get to tell me what to do." Puck hisses as he spins around to glare at Quinn. "You think you can fucking tell me how to act, how to drive, how to live, Quinn! I am fucking losing it here and all you can do is criticize."

I groan, "Do you really have to air your dirty laundry here?" I decide to settle in. I've made a habit of running a timer during one their public arguments. The record is an hour.

What a night that was… Puck is a member of our schools basketball team, which I find hi-larious as he is really awful at it, but despite his mediocre ball skills he takes the sport pretty seriously. After losing one night Quinn tried to comfort him saying "It's just a silly game." Yeah, Puck yelled at her in the parking lot for an hour.

In all actuality I guess I shouldn't really call them "fights". They're more like "Puck yells at Quinn for long periods of time".

Puck truly was a shitstane on Earth's tighty-whiteys.

"I'm not telling you to do anything." Quinn reasons as she struggles to keep her tone even. "I was just saying to maybe lay off of him a little, that's all. I'm sor-"

"Quinn, if you dare apologize I will lose all respect for you." I hiss, glaring directly at Puck. He cast me a quick, sideways glance as if I was just background noise.

Quinn wavers, opening and closing her mouth like a fish desperate for water.

Finding her courage, barely, Quinn mutters to me. "Stay out of this, San. I can handle this."

"Handle!? Really?" Puck laughs hysterically. He turns away from Quinn and the next things we now the car lurches forward. "You hear that, Samantha? I'm something to be handled apparently."

"Chill man. You two can talk when we get back to Lima, okay?"

Or, here's a thought, just fucking break up already.

"No one respects me, that's the problem." Puck huffs at Sam. "No one respects _us_."

I look at Quinn who is shaking her head and looking at the floor of the trucks dirty interior. She doesn't cry, she doesn't even look upset. She looks like someone who was used to it.

I suddenly feel like I'm about to lose my dinner.

"Y'know we drove an hour to pick you two brats up." Puck starts to rant at Quinn his steely grey eyes connect with her through the rearview mirror. She breaks eye contact and he growls. Fuckwad. "We get called at 2 AM to fucking pick you up and haul you to Lima. And when I get here I get no 'thank you's' just your fucking bitchy friend bitching at me for being late."

"It was cold! You stopped to get a burrito!" I snap.

"You should be grateful I came to get you at all! Do you know how pissed I was to hear you went to a party without telling me, Quinn? Really fucking angry. You think I like that this cunt drags you out to go drinking?"

I am now at full attention if I was not before.

"Listen you little shit-"

"Keep it cool on the insults man. It's not Santana you're mad at." Sam says before flashing me an apologetic grin.

"How many guys did you fuck?"

"Jesus Christ…"

"We were at a flipping Mercedes' birthday party, Noah!" Quinn cries out. "We were not drinking or flirting or anything that you think! I didn't tell you because I didn't think it was important. I'm sorry"

I die a little when she apologizes.

Regardless of her explanation, Puck continues his questioning. "How many guys were there?"

"Finn, Artie, and Ryder. That's it." Quinn rushes out hurriedly. "And Wade..." She adds as an afterthought.

"Unique." I correct unconsciously.

"Another problem is that I can't trust you, Quinn. You were such a thirsty slut before I met you." They met in eighth grade. "What if I'm not there and you relapse? You'd end up giving handies to those losers in the blink of an eye. You'd probably sink so low to suck off that He-She with his shrivelled up dick."

"Gross." Sam shudders.

"Don't call her that you piece of-"

I stop myself as I hear a little sob to my right. This is the first time I've seen Quinn reduced to tears.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, baby. I swear nothing happened! It was just a silly party, nothing happened, nothing did, not with anyone. I'm sorry, Noah, I'm sorry!"

She's a mess now. Puck had won.

Puck sighs and takes his hands off the wheel to rub them roughly over his face, trying to make an attempt to calm down.

"Sam's right… We'll talk when we get home, and you can make it up to me."

My blood runs cold at that.

"Care to tell me what you mean by 'make it up to you'?" I ask, my voice wavers as I try to contain my fury.

Quinn looks at me. Her eyes say "please, leave it alone".

I am too far gone to let this slide.

"Couple business." Puck sneers. "You'd understand if you had a boyfriend, skank."

I tense.

This is the day I kill someone. This day. May 7th. Or is it the 8th? I'm to mad to concentrate.

"Listen to me carefully, you delinquent lunatic. She doesn't owe you jackshit. I don't know what your issues are, and quite frankly if they produced this fucked up of a guy, I don't want to know. But Quinn? She is way out of your league and you have the audacity to treat her like shit on a regular basis. You embarrass her in front of everybody, partly because you look fucking ridiculous and hideous next to her, and partly because you feel the need to condescend her in public all the time. You are not worth anything, Puckerman. Not to her, not to your friends, not to your dumbass team, to no one. So don't you ever fucking suggest that you own her, and she has to apologize for doing things normal people do. You are nothing, Puckerman."

"I'm something to Quinn…" Puck utters after a pregnant pause. "She loves me and I love her. I'm not letting someone like you fuck this up for us. We've got a good thing going on."

"_You've_ got a good thing going." I correct.

"Quinn?"

"You know I love you, Noah."

Fuck me.

He smiles. "I love you too baby."

Just kill me now.

Quinn looks at me as she shakes her head. Her look says, 'I don't want your help'

Ignoring Quinn's look, I hoist myself up until my head is next to Puck's. He looks at me expectantly with a shit-eating grin on his face.

Someone is going to die.

"I don't like you Puckerman-"

"San, sit back down."

"Really? I never would have guessed." He drawled out lazily.

"I usually have a distaste for all people, but you my friend win 1st prize in the 'People I Hate the Most' contest."

"I'll treasure the trophy always."

I look back to see Quinn looking at me with pleading eyes.

She deserves so much better.

"If you hurt her tonight, I will fucking murder you."

"I'm not going to hurt her… I'm going to fuck her senseless."

Next thing you know it I'm straining against the seatbelt, wailing on Puck's head with all my previously repressed fury fulling my blows. I have never felt this satisfied in my life.

Puck is shouting profanity as he tries to block the oncoming blows from his face. The car lurches to the left, and Sam leans over to grab the wheel. I hear Quinn shrieking in the backseat.

All of a sudden, a bright light shines in through the right sides window.

I hear a loud crunch accompanied by a horn that overpowers Quinn's screaming.

All the air is let out of my lungs, I hunch over. Sam is thrown into me, at the same time pain erupts over my face.

Puck is shouting, pushing me back into my seat. My eyes sting, everything is white.

It hurts to blink.

It's so bright.

Oh My God… I'm dying.

The last thing I will ever see is stupid Puck.

How fucking delightful.

**A/N: Hey, thanks for reading :) Let me know in the reviews if you guys like it. I will only continue if this gets any feedback. **

**Sorry for all the Puck fans out there. I like him I do. But he's different in this universe. **

**This story is adapted from one of my personal stories. I hope you guys enjoy it. And always remember: Brittana is endgame.**


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